But my optimism was misplaced.
Our seemingly perfect union lasted a mere week. Just one week of reassurance and happiness. One week where the promise of an alcohol-free future felt tangible. However, it wasn’t that Jake returned to drinking—he was nearing a year of sobriety. The real challenge lay within me, as a storm brewed beneath the surface, one that had been building for ten years, kept at bay by the distractions of his addiction. With his newfound sobriety came acceptance, healing, and, inevitably, the weight of unresolved issues.
The burden of the past hit me hard. I found myself grappling with the idea of accepting his apology and acknowledging my own pain. Suddenly, I was once again navigating through feelings of isolation while he spent evenings at Alcoholics Anonymous, filling his “drinking time” with “meeting time.” Instead of feeling supportive, I was resentful—not of his journey, but of the fact that my own needs felt secondary. I was still left to manage our life alone, while he focused on his recovery, leaving me feeling unvalued and alone.
It may sound petty, but unless you’ve lived through the complexities of a relationship with an alcoholic, it’s challenging to understand. The “us” versus “them” mentality is pervasive—especially in the early days of recovery. You feel like an outsider, unable to bridge the gap between your experiences and their journey. Supporting someone while feeling marginalized can lead to profound loneliness.
During those early days, anger consumed me. I was furious at him, at myself, at our situation. How do you find forgiveness for someone who has physically harmed you? How do you forgive yourself for staying?
This was the reality of his sobriety—a truth I’d avoided for too long. My marriage had been marred by physical and emotional abuse, and I had chosen to stay, even after starting a family. People often commend me for my resilience, but I don’t wear that as a badge of honor. There’s nothing courageous about enduring abuse or feeling trapped in a relationship out of fear of being alone. I refuse to perpetuate that notion; it’s not a lesson I want my daughter to learn.
As sobriety turned from days to weeks and then months, Jake and I became more in tune with each other, yet we felt like strangers. My depression deepened, prompting me to seek therapy. It took time, but I began to voice my experiences—the violence, the challenges, and the strain on our relationship. As I grew stronger, I found myself drifting further from him. The more I healed, the more I realized I no longer wanted to be with him.
In early 2015, I finally said the word “abuse.” I told him I loved him, but I was no longer in love with him. Soon after, I expressed my desire for a divorce. I had read the statistics—AA often leads to more broken marriages than successful recoveries. Determined not to become another statistic, I explored Al-Anon, sought support, and tried to remain engaged in his life without being overbearing. However, I soon realized that living in the past wasn’t for me; I needed to break free.
We began couples therapy shortly after. Nearly a year has passed since Jake’s last drink and over a year since he last hurt me. Yet, it’s been 11 long years since I felt genuinely safe or loved. We have our good moments—moments that are becoming more frequent—but we still have much to work on. Our past continues to cast a shadow, but it’s how we choose to navigate that past that ultimately defines us.
For those in recovery, I commend your strength and courage; that journey is where you reclaim your life. For those supporting loved ones in recovery, recognize that you are also brave—not because you stayed, but because you are prioritizing your own needs. And for those grappling with the struggles of addiction in their families, know that you are not alone. Help is available, and it’s essential to reach out and seek it.
In the end, we are both the “us” and the “them,” and perhaps we’re not as different as we think.
If you’re interested in learning more about similar experiences, check out this insightful piece on sobriety and relationships. And for those considering at-home insemination, CryoBaby offers reliable insemination kits that could be a great resource. Also, for anyone exploring fertility options, Johns Hopkins provides excellent information on IVF and other services.
Summary
The journey through sobriety can reshape relationships in unexpected ways. This reflective piece explores the complexities of navigating a marriage impacted by addiction, revealing the emotional turmoil that often accompanies the recovery process. It emphasizes the importance of self-awareness and seeking help, acknowledging the dual struggle of both partners in such situations.
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